


Heads or Tails

by gothpandaotaku



Series: Short and Sweet [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Abortion, Dean Being an Asshole, Discussion of Abortion, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg Sam, Pregnant Sam, Pregnant Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 08, Suicidal Sam, Suicidal Sam Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 21:44:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10773051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothpandaotaku/pseuds/gothpandaotaku
Summary: "In the corner of the aisle there was a small display of Plan B pills.Ignoring the way his hand was shaking, he shoved them into the basket as well.He walked out of the aisle—and turned around, grabbing a second bottle of pills with a smiling, glowing pregnant woman on the front"





	Heads or Tails

When Dean came back from Purgatory, it was perfect. They hugged, clinging to one another like the lifelines they were, and kissed, and made love, even if it was rough. Sam was so happy to have his brother back he didn’t see the darkness in his eyes.

And then Dean found out about Amelia.

 After that, he refused to even _look_ at Sam, let alone speak to him. Sam tried so, so many times to just _explain_ —but Dean wouldn’t listen to a single word, storming out of the motel room or pulling the Impala over every time Sam brought it up.

Dean _hated_ him.

Three weeks later, and things were only getting worse. Dean could barely stand to be in the same space as him. It made Sam wonder what he was even fighting for anymore. His stomach was constantly in knots and he couldn’t keep any food down.

So while Dean was gassing up the Impala Sam perused the aisles of the convenience store with the same sort of detached indifference he’d felt since Dean yelled at him, _“You left me, for a GIRL?”_ Seemingly on their own, his legs stopped in the pharmacy aisle. Without letting himself think about it too much, he shoved two pregnancy tests into the basket on his arm. He walked a few steps further…

In the corner of the aisle there was a small display of Plan B pills.

Ignoring the way his hand was shaking, he shoved them into the basket as well.

He walked out of the aisle—and turned around, grabbing a second bottle of pills with a smiling, glowing pregnant woman on the front.

* * *

 

“Just get out of my fucking sight, Sam, _before_ I fucking punch you in the face,” Dean hissed, glaring at Sam with such—with such _disdain_ in his eyes Sam thought he was going to be sick right then and there. Dean slammed the motel room door behind him so hard it rattled on its hinges; seconds later the rumble of the Impala started up and faded as Dean left for God knew where.

Sam didn’t know if he was coming back.

He stumbled to the bathroom on weak legs. He could feel himself losing his grip on the sense of detachment that had become the only way he could get through the day. Not feeling anything at all. With shaking hands he reached under the sink and pulled out one of the pregnancy tests. And just. Stared at it.

He didn’t want to take it.

He didn’t want to know.

Because what if he _was_ pregnant? What would he do about it? Dean couldn’t even stand to look at him, much less raise a child with him. Not to mention hunters didn’t have a long life span, what were they going to do, bring a child into this world to live a short, cruel life?

Numbly, Sam sat on the toilet and peed on the white stick. And waited. And waited. Until finally, after about five minutes had passed, he looked down—at the pink plus sign staring back at him. No matter how many times he blinked, it refused to disappear, and he was forced to accept that it was real.

He was pregnant.

Dean… would hate him even more now, wouldn’t he? He’d leave and never look back. Sam would _never see him again_ — No. Sam would—he’d _take care of it_ and everything would be fine. Dean might hate him but at least he hadn’t left…yet.

He reached under the sink again and pulled out the Plan B pills. His hands were trembling so hard he dropped them half a dozen times before they made their way to his mouth. Of course he knew the pills technically weren’t supposed to harm an existing pregnancy but maybe, just maybe, if he took _enough_ of them…

The pills felt like lead in his throat as he forced them down. He drank some water from the tap to wash them down and… done.

…

What would it have looked like? Would it have been a boy or a girl?

Would it have had Dean’s eyes?

What if Dean never came back? And Sam just killed the last piece of Dean he’d ever have? It’s what he’s always done, after all, kill everything good in his life.

He just killed Dean’s—

Sam shoved his fingers down his throat until he retched. And then he did it again and again, just to make sure everything was gone.

Everything went black after that.

* * *

 

“Sam! Open the goddamn damn door before I break it down!”

Sam’s head pounded along with the rapping on the door as he slowly made his way back to consciousness.

“That it, I’m fucking breaking the door down,” Dean’s voice shouted from behind the locked door. If he had any energy he’d tell Dean _“I’m fine_ ,” but he couldn’t even muster up the energy to open his eyes.

A particularly loud bang and Sam heard his brother burst inside. He rushed to Sam’s side, shaking him. “Sam? Sammy?! _What did you do?_ ” He must have seen the dropped pills on the floor.

“ _Threw them up,”_ Sam said, or tried to. _“I threw them up, I’m sorry, I threw them up.”_

He tried to stay awake, to explain, to tell Dean, something, _anything_ , now that Dean was actually speaking to him again and _touching_ him again—god, how he’d missed Dean’s touch—but he passed out before he could.

* * *

 

Sam woke up in the hospital.

A part of him was shocked that Dean had cared enough. The other part of him was absolutely fucking terrified like he’d never been in his life, not even when facing Lucifer himself.

Dean _knew_.

The first thing the doctor had done was go over the results of the tests they’d run while he’d been unconscious. And apparently he was still pregnant. And Dean had heard every word.

They kept Sam overnight for observation. Sam fully expected Dean to bust him out soon as the nurses turned their back—or leave him here, alone—but Dean didn’t say anything, instead acting like he hadn’t heard a single thing the doctor said.

He handed Sam his clothes silently, wheeled Sam out of the hospital silently, and drove home silently.

Sam thought it was worse than death.

They returned to the motel to presumably pick up the rest of their stuff, and the moment the door shut behind them Sam turned to Dean and said “I don’t give a damn if you hate me, yell at me, punch me, but just _talk to me, Dean_.”

Dean’s face remained blank as he mocked, “Talk to you? Oh, you mean like how you told me you were fucking _pregnant?_ Or how you’d apparently rather die than have my kid? And let’s not forget how you ran off with some chick while I was wasting away in Purgatory, let’s talk about _that,_ Sam.”

“I told you, it wasn’t like that with Amelia-”

“Then how was it? Because to me it sounds like you finally got the life you’d always wanted, with me dead.”

Sam took a step back, as if he’d been slapped. “Dean, I could never—I could never live with you dead. That’s why I-”

“Shacked up with Amelia?”

“- _tried to kill myself many, many times_ ,” Sam whispered. “And Amelia kept me _alive_ long enough for you to come back to me. She’s the only reason I was still there for you to call when you came back from Purgatory.”

It was Dean’s turn to recoil. In an instant, his mask of bravado and devil-may-care attitude crumbled and he looked like a scared child again. “Sammy? No? You wouldn’t-”

Wordlessly, Sam rolled up his sleeves to reveal rows upon rows of long jagged scars.

Dean gasped, his face turning deathly pale.

“It was the only way I could be sure I was really alive,” Sam murmured. “Without you it already felt like I was dead. So then I figured, why not actually _be_ dead?” He looked up to see tears rolling down Dean’s beautiful stricken face.

“Sammy, I—I’m sorry,” Dean whispered. “I was topside again and suddenly nothing made sense, and it… it never made sense for you to love me.”

Sam shook his head. “I was _made_ to love you, Dean. Can’t you see that?”

Suddenly Sam’s arms were full of his big brother as he sobbed into Sam’s neck. Sam clung to Dean’s shaking shoulders like a lifeline, surprised to feel tears falling down his face as well.

“You don’t… hate me?” Sam sobbed.

“I was _made_ to love you, Baby Boy, remember?”

It made Sam cry all the harder.

Eventually they made their way to one of the beds and practically collapsed on top of it, Sam burying his face in Dean’s neck. Just as he was about to drift off to sleep he felt a probing hand on his stomach and jumped.

“S-Sorry, I was just-”

“It’s okay, you can touch. I mean, there’s nothing to feel yet, but…”

Tentatively, Dean reached under Sam’s shirt and splayed his palm on Sam’s bare stomach. “So… you’re pregnant? We’re having a baby?”

“We are?”

“Of course we are—if you, if you-”

“I want.”

* * *

 

**_Six months later_ **

“Deeeeeean, can you leave my stomach alone for _two fucking seconds?_ ” Sam whined. From the moment he first touched it, Dean had become  _obsessed_ with Sam's growing bump, wanting to feel it twenty four-seven. 

“But Sammy, the baby’s _moving._ ”

“Yeah, I can feel it, Sherlock.”

“Our baby’s gonna be a world class soccer player or some shit,” Dean said proudly as the baby kicked.

Sam groaned.

“Did you take your-”

“Yes, I took my prenatal vitamins, Dean, every morning.”

 


End file.
